Don’t Tell Me to Vote

              Every couple of years, there’s a major election, and as always, there are people, driven by unknown inner forces, who harass me to vote.  Ads are scattered across TV, Facebook, radio, at work.  People are wearing stickers and bragging.  “I voted!”  As if they just donated a kidney to a stranger.  I don’t understand.

              Why do you want me to vote?  Is it because you feel that I am underrepresented as an upper-middle-class white man?  You want me to get out there and fight the power?

              Maybe people think that there’s a chance I will vote for the candidate they like.  As if, I were just involved and educated enough, and I’d finally understand that Bernie Sanders is the answer to all the problems in this country.  Guess what?  Not gonna happen.  I promise, I will never approve of your candidate.  If you are a pompous, lecturing asshole who thinks you have the right and obligation to lecture me about how I spend my time, we are never going to agree on a political candidate.

Civic Duty

              I read an article once that made sense to me, regarding this phenomenon.  There is an idea that we all have a civic duty to be involved in the political process.  I suppose I understand this.  Sort of like, jury duty.  We are all expected to put in a certain amount of time in the management of our society.  But when it comes to voting for political candidates, my vote accomplishes nothing.  It puts no food an anyone’s table, it heats no house, it diagnoses no disease.  It.  Provides.  Nothing.  If I vote, the politically active jackasses receive no reward, other than a vague happiness that they were able to influence me.

              If I were to try to influence people to do anything, it would be to be healthier or kinder.  I will never tell anyone to vote, but I might encourage people to quit smoking.  Or drinking soda loaded with high-fructose corn syrup.  Or try to convince them to get off the couch and go run a couple of miles.  Or to visit lonely old people at a nursing home.  All of these things will provide a tangible benefit to a human being.  Or an animal.  Go take your dog for a walk.  Gonna kill two birds with one stone, that one.  But the point is, there is a measurable benefit.

              I discuss all my crochety thoughts with my wife, who is hung up on the electoral college.  I don’t care so much about the electoral college, because I don’t understand it.  Kidding.  I understand the major point of contention she has with it, which is that these electoral representatives can choose any candidate they want.  They don’t have to vote the way the constituents vote.  Which is insane and unfair.

I Do Not Like Politicians

              But none of that matters to me anyway, because I never vote.  The last time I voted was in 1992, and I voted for Ross Perot.  Why?  Because while he was a little quirky, he didn’t seem like he was full of shit, like all the other candidates.  Now, we’re getting down to the actual point.  I don’t vote because I hate politicians.  I think they’re all liars and scumbags, and potential murderers.  These people are self-selected to be people I hate.  They are people with zero humility.  The hubris it takes to think you are so much smarter and more capable of leading people than anyone else stuns me.  When you believe this about yourself, so much that you follow through and run for office, you are a person I would never like.  You are someone I would never trust, and I hate you.

              Let me be clear:  I hate Donald Trump.  He is a moron and a misogynist.  I hate the people who hate Donald Trump.  I hate Nancy Pelosi.  I hate Bernie Sanders and Hillary Clinton and Bill Clinton.  There are politicians I hate less.  But I’m sure that this is only because I don’t know them well enough.  If I spent a little time with Marco Rubio, I’d probably discover that he skins kittens in his spare time.

The Compromise

              Suppose the Facebook ads accomplish their goal.  I go to the polls in November and I’m faced with the choice of voting for Bernie Sanders or Donald Trump.  What do I do?  I can’t vote for Bernie, because he’s a socialist.  Socialism would destroy this country.  How do I know this?  Read a book.  Look at Venezuela or Cuba or the Soviet Union.  Sorry, I’m not trying to argue about politics, I’m explaining why I refuse to vote.  So, I’m at the polls, and I understand that electing a socialist would be a disaster.  So I’m forced to vote for Trump, a man I find morally repugnant?  I have to give my approval to a human I would cross the street to avoid?  No, thank you.  I won’t make that compromise.

              You’re so cynical, you say.  I disagree.  I know there those who are admirable, people who are smart and would make incredible leaders.  I’ve worked with physicians and nurses and techs and engineers who would check off all the boxes to be my leader.  But they don’t spend their days pandering to voters and industry to raise money.  They spend their days saving lives and designing products to make our lives better.  They educate our children and grow and cook us food.  They build us houses and keep us safe.

How to fix it

              Fine, Jason, you say.  What is your solution to the political mess in this country?  Simple.  Follow the model of jury duty.  Don’t give our leaders a choice.  Survey everyone in the country to see who they respect, who they admire.  From whom would they accept guidance and rule?  Compile the results, and make those people our leaders.  There’s civic duty for you. 

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, but you’ve been chosen to be president.”

Chosen candidate:  “Dammit!  I don’t have time!  I have a fourth-grade class to teach.”

Me:  “Get on the helicopter, please.  Calm down, it’s only for four years.”

Chosen candidate:  “But I don’t want to be president!”

Me: “You have to.  I voted.”